I never wanted to be your whole world
That’s just too big a burden for anyone
And I’d surely tumble, sooner or later
I only hoped to be a few important moments
That you might chose to hold close and…remember
Poet of the Light © 2018
Category: heartache
Comfort-less
Years have past but not without
my personal felt notice-
regarding each of those missed moments.
There still comes times
when I go mindlessly into other rooms
to initiate aflutter conversations
of something inspired to speak over
and the empty cold silence has to
drastically remind me- you’re gone.
I stand in a sorrowful dumbfounded mess
never really knowing, for just how long
let alone recalling…what day, today was.
Poet of the Light © 2019
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Glint
It’s over
the flicker of hope
extinguished
by a gasping breath
exhaled too soon
thru a premature grin
The hollows of a hearth
cold and silent
broken darkness
all is as it was, again
Normalcy for me…lives on
Poet of the Light © 2019
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Given time
You just have to forgive her
If ever you want to feel her heart
You have to look past her words
Then sink deeper between the lines
Her half smile is just a veil
To keep away unwanted questions
She couldn’t answer, even if she tried
Deep inside- she’s living lonely
Where her soul is void of light
Between the heartbeats and sighs
But she’ll pretend to everyone
She’s happy and loving life
She forgotten how to trust
Daring eyes and suspicious smiles
So she passes on their colors
And their broken promise lies
She works too hard to live- love
A broken dreamers way of healing
She spends her quiet time writing
About everyone else wishful life
She tells herself, she’s doing alright
Until those ghostly feelings
Sneak in and up along her side
The way frozen air surprises
All she can do is close her eyes
She learned denying is only futile
There’s no place left for her to hide
Vivid memories play havoc in her mind
Tear-filled emotions flow
Steeping into her ink words
And her life feels a bit smaller
I can only watch from afar regretting
Not having found her…first
Poet of the Light © 2019
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Cobwebs and crowfeet
The lines on my face- are evidence
Of roads traveled, choices made
Not necessarily always mine- or finished
Some just appear for seemingly no reason
Thus, is the punitive signature of time, itself
But like inked words of any frayed book
They tell stories, some depicting for chapters
And yet others are much more subdued
Like a fog adrift at twilight along an ocean
Ghostly implications, purposely left hanging
While some are obvious, others are darker
Not all stories can be considered informative
Riddled with clues, thereby providing answers
Leading naive readers off a precipitous cliff
Some stories in books are merely like art
Subject to interpretation by individual readers
But always predicated on their true motive
Of what they hope to find or dismiss- sneeringly
Relying more on conventional restraints, idioms
Too afraid to learn or accept any new truth
Deceptively veiling their true inadequacies
Because they got lost, or really have no clue
Unable to comprehend the author’s thoughts
And yet, none of the lines alone can define them
In pictures- painted inside visiting minds by words
Greater is the challenge of peregrinating a heart
To appreciatively understand the trails and tales
Of roads life created or discovered by a person
Experiencing them unblemished in whispers
Risking knowledge lived with them from…inside out
Poet of the Light © 2019
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Scuttlebutt
There’s a thousand different ways
I could spin it, slant its effect
My version of what happened
But truth has a way of seeping out
Even in depictions we try to hide
From the world and ourselves
Only a fool would dare bother- now
It seemed a bit odd and yet
Fashionably accepting, for even us
Maybe even too accepting
To look forward to a bit later
Like hours later, each night
As being some quick triumph
And then again further onwards
As in like tomorrow morning
Being somehow the new summit
To aim for, to conquer if but only
In the space in our convoluted minds
As far as getting over- it all, again
While we steep- in muck
Maybe in some foolish respects
That kind of mess we lived
Replaced what we had- and lost
And thereby replaced reality
Any sense of normalcy or love
And getting from here to there
In love was all a bit more perfunctory
Like breathing, unnotably
In our most mundane of daily’s
Perhaps along our heart’s pathway
We lost what it meant to be us
What it meant to love one another
When we threw the compass overboard
And simply headed to new horizons
Braving those head on waves
Unconcerned of the weather or hunger
As our souls simply sought
To bestow something greater to another
Without concern of what we might gain
Lacking any fear of landing anywhere
Least of all- here, in this place- today
All I know now, was in that moment
When our ship of love went down
Was seeing your image swim away
Until you were merely a mirage fading
You- never looked back once
I’d bet my life you would, I would’ve lost
Oddly, I feel now as if I won
I clung on the mast, and our loves flag
As I choked on waves of bitter truth
My body, my mind slowly grew numb
Floating off in the tide’s changing currents
Almost as if I remained, in nights darkness
Never setting anywhere close to-a bit later
As if they were tiny islands of refuge
That we had become so accustomed to
Until the charity of a drier shoreline
Bequeathing granules of time, spilt over
Offered me a place far from the wreckage
Of that shattered little sailboat of- us
Where the illusion of love existed
Far more than reality of love…for one of us
Poet of the Light © 2019
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Understandably
Love- is not painful by nature
Human perversion does that
Taking away its unique beauty
In order to claim ownership
Of love itself, all that it derives
Crudely etching one’s inscription
Across some fabric of delusion
Pain itself is discreetly infused
When the enchanted emotions
Of love is discolored, then abused
Only those who wish to misuse love
Would dare promote its wreckage
As being a necessity in loves quest
When the truth is, love only- loves
And humans, well they do the rest
Lust is who wears that false face
The true thief, of human hearts
Boldly stealing what otherwise
It could never obtain- or touch
Dragging us all most unwittingly
Into depths of sheer darkness
After tethering our deep fears
Submerged, we’re wet embers
It is there, in that dark palace
Where we are left abandoned
Far from where love intended
And the only thing we dare rein
Is our own infected imagination
Whilst our hearts beat onward
Its distinct song in silent hope
Our true lover will come along
And rescue us and truth of…love
Poet of the Light © 2019
